


Hold Thy Tongue And Let Me Love

by Serpentine



Category: White Collar
Genre: HC Bingo, Other, Threesome - F/M/M, prompt: hostile climate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 15:53:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serpentine/pseuds/Serpentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Elizabeth doesn't think she can keep silent for even a minute longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Thy Tongue And Let Me Love

Some days Elizabeth _burns_ to tell somebody.

It's worst when she's just talked to her parents or to Emily and Dana, who were bridesmaids in her wedding; the contrast is so stark that her whole body sort of seizes up in an internal battle between the urge to talk and the need to hide. Or now, when she's in office working on accounts. That gives her enough time to think, and she's surrounded by friendly faces who would love a bit of happy gossip to brighten up the paperwork.

When she met Peter, she'd told _everyone_. Dana had won the bet with Emily over how long it would take Peter to ask her out with a scarily-accurate guess (off by a mere three hours)! Her mom had helped her plan everything, and showered her with gifts large and small; her dad had beamed at her and told her he had the cleverest daughter anyone could ask for, she'd trapped this FBI agent so neatly and he could hardly believe she was going to get married. Dana and Emily had patiently put up with her garrulity on every Peter-related subject under the sun.

Now there's Neal, and everything has changed.

Not within her marriage, surprisingly enough -- El and Peter and Neal work nearly as smoothly as El and Peter did. Only minor changes have occurred among the three of them. Of course, she's had a lot of practice living with Neal Caffrey in spirit before he joined them in the flesh. _What gorgeous flesh it is, though!_ El thinks cheerfully. Her memory of two nights ago, when she'd wrestled Neal onto the bed naked and tag-teamed him with Peter, and he'd come before either of them got more than their shirts off, touches her lips with a faint smile.

Out of newly-acquired habit, she touches her mouth and glances around for potential witnesses.

 _That_ is the difference. She's happily married, as much in love with Peter as ever, and if anyone were to ask she would say her smile was on Peter's account.

Everyone would believe it.

Even before she married Peter, she'd sometimes referred to him as her husband, and her loved ones had smiled and laughed and cheered her on: _Attagirl, El! Go get him!_ or a teasing _You haven't caught him yet! Don't jinx it!_

Now there would be none of that. If she said, _It's because of Neal Caffrey, my other husband_...

Aside from the horrific legal consequences that could descend on all of them if anyone ever insinuated that their new relationship had started before Neal's sentence was up, there are the personal consequences. El doesn't harbour any illusions that her parents and friends would smile and pat her shoulder, or cheer her on in pursuit, if she told them she has a second husband in her sights. (It's early days yet for such serious terms, but El has already proven that she's decisive in these matters, and she's certain that "husband" is what Neal will be, irrespective of law or licence.)

No. As much as she longs to share this newfound joy that has stolen into her life and her heart, she _knows_ she must keep it hidden. It galls, though. In the very visceral sense: it wears on her, chafes against her most sensitive spots. Sometimes she pictures her friendships as a ribbon, curving to reach around Neal's secret presence and beginning to fray from the constant friction.

It would be worse for Peter, who would likely lose his job despite having done no wrong. No one can prove a negative, so anyone who suspected Peter of abusing his authority would only have to drop the suggestion in the right ear. Neither Peter nor El can prove that Neal came to them only after he was a free man, though he did. They certainly can't claim they felt nothing for him before then; and never mind that emotions aren't actionable, that would certainly make them guilty in some people's eyes. The FBI, Peter noted drily, wasn't known for its progressive attitudes or its leniency.

\------------------------

El spends the rest of the day with a faint feeling of melancholy, spiked with occasional frustration when she catches herself watching everyone like a spy.

At four she decides she can't take any more of this. The atmosphere of her little office, which used to be a place of pleasant fellowship, feels like a movie set she's wandered into by mistake, full of people who have no idea what she's doing and would only get upset if they knew that she didn't belong.

Decision made, El sweeps her papers into her Kate Spade case and says, "I'm going to finish these at home. Cindy, will you turn off the lights and lock up when you leave? I just can't concentrate today."

"Of course," Cindy says, and waves. "Take a break, El. All that's left are the new catering quotes, and I can handle those in my sleep. Doesn't look like they have anything new and exciting enough to be worth switching from Armand's, but I'll make double sure anyway."

"I owe you one," El says (careful not to sound too fervent, or too rushed). She heads out the door without further ado. Satchmo's company is all she can stand while such depressing thoughts are running through her head. Satchmo lets her tell him everything, even though he already knows how wonderful Neal is and how much he means to Peter and Elizabeth.

\------------------------

"I'm home," she calls as she enters, but only Satch's excited panting answers her. After letting him out, El sets up at the kitchen table with all her work stuff and a cup of tea, and forces herself to focus on the bills. Satchmo at her feet provides the sort of quiet companionship that the office couldn't supply, and the churning in her head slips to something more akin to sloshing.

Just as she finishes the bills, Satchmo leaps up and dashes to the door. Peter and Neal, for a miracle, have come home on time. Neal is loaded down with boxes of takeout, and is arguing about something with Peter. It makes his eyes sparkle like stars, and Peter's laugh sweeps through her like the rumble of a distant train, instantly recognisable and familiar.

"You're here on time, _and_ you brought me food!" El exclaims, grabbing two of the boxes for closer examination. "How did you know I needed pho today?"

Both of them look at her, as though she's revealed something more than she intended with her words. Having them here is sweeping away her worries, though, and the smile she turns on them is honest.

"We just knew," Neal says. "I have a knack, you know."

"You certainly do," El agrees, and grabs both of them into a hug. "You're brilliant." Looking toward Peter, she says, "Peter, Neal is brilliant and talented and gorgeous." She kisses him, too, and then turns back to Neal. "Neal, Peter is brilliant and talented and gorgeous, and he brought me pho."

"Hey! How come Peter gets the pho credit?" Neal's face twisted in exaggerated outrage.

"Peter drove," Peter interjects wryly. "That means he gets the credit."

"He's talking about himself in the third person!" Neal turns to El. "El, he's talking about himself in the third person! That means he's crazy, and I get the credit."

"Peter gets credit for pho," El says solemnly. "You get credit for putting up with him when he's crazy."

"I get lots more credit than you, then," Neal says smugly to Peter, who shakes his head.

"Setting the table will earn me more," he says, and turns to start taking plates down.

Elizabeth watches as Neal darts for the silverware drawer, laughing comment on his lips as he twists around Peter's body to reach. Peter's mouth has that sideways tug that means he thinks Neal is funny but doesn't plan on encouraging him by laughing.

El goes for glasses, and pats Satchmo along the way.

She still can't talk to anyone else about one of the two best things that have ever happened to her, but she does have two charming, lovely men who will always want to hear the things she wants to say. That will have to do.


End file.
